Many Happy Returns

So we're back in La Paz. I love this city. Steep streets, good coffee, tasty and cheap food. But the thing I like most is the familiarity. I've been here before. There is something comforting about going back to a place on a trip like this. It's different than going back to Nanaimo (still doubling in length every year), or Vancouver (still amazed by the Olympic venues; where did all the homeless people go?), or Edmonton (still sucky, but different somehow), or Compton (still D.R.E.).

It has a lot to do with logistics. The first place on this trip that we went back to was Lima. Upon arrival, we already knew the address of our hostel, including street intersection, and how much the cab should cost. We already knew where to get coffee, what we wanted for lunch and where to get it, and where the good supermarket is. We had been in Lima for one day previously, but that's enough. Lima became the closest thing to home up to that point.

It happened again in Cuzco after the Inca Trail. We didn't even have to catch a cab that time; walking directions were somehow embedded in our brains. The schlep along the gauntlet of Calle Recoleta was suddenly an innate brain function: walk, walk, walk, step off curb to avoid old lady laden with corn, walk, walk, walk, step onto curb to avoid taxi too large for the street, walk, walk, dog poo, walk, walk, more old ladies, etc. It seemed totally normal.

Now we're back in La Paz after a somewhat uncomfortable four-day trip to the Salar de Uyuni (awesome), where the hot water and toilet facilities are reliable and I know where I can get a roll of Mentos and it feels better than my old apartment on 114th Street. And I loved that apartment.